I found this strange, tattered journal while walking through the woods behind my house, and wondered if you could make sense of it all. From what I could glean, it was written by a nomadic tribe, but none of this is really given.
I have managed to find a psychic of rather ill-repute, who turned out to be outstanding at her job, and managed to get in contact with my crazy uncle, who had been working on deciphering the text before me. Here is the revised edition of the text. Now, to head home and take care of that wolf bite. My fur's itching like crazy...
Searching, squaring, measuring, squeezing,
it's a measurement.
Not the worst, I end up choosing,
lemmings know the rest.
It saddens my heart to relay this next part:
Swear not in vain, or swallow the pain.
With his head now gone, the ill-begotten son's song,
ended with keen notes of grieving.
Three's fourteen, the next sign read,
and most of us waved goodbye.
The rest of us spoke out our puzzlement,
and headed off with a sigh.
Be forewarned, your journey be done,
once you've followed our story.
Our strange sense of pride, and
the cause of our tribe's
pilgrimage to seas unknown.
So, if you be brave,
Take heed, my friend,
and learn this lesson from our passage...
Make right from our wrongs, and carry our songs,
to the pages of some dusty story/novel.
My Uncle was secretly following the stories of a small indigenous group of people that inhabited a remote corner of the earth some 2000 years ago, trying to figure out their entire history after stumbling upon some dusty old journal at a local bazaar. He always thought of it as merely a way to keep time and wile away boredom, but began to wonder whether the stories were true, how this tribe had lived, and where they had gone. He spent nearly every waking moment of his last 10 years trying to search for some final clue, when he stumbled upon this inscription carved in a deep cavern by long-forgotten hands, written in some strange dialect. However, he could never finish the decipher.
Please, puzzlers, can you solve this puzzle, and finally let my Uncle find the rest he deserves? You are my last hope, for I fear I am growing mad myself (see my previous renditions of this story to find out how).
Several people are of the mistaken impression that the answer has to do with math.
Also, partial answers are heavily encouraged.
I found some hidden edits made with a tincture of foxbane and the light of a blue moon while perusing the riddle once more: the words the rest are highlighted, and it appears as if a dot was made above the comma in line 3. It also appears as if line 2 was scribbled in at a later date...